Maximum Ride: The Reprise
by Vintage Vine
Summary: I've just finished Nevermore, and in celebration of completing my first week of high school, I just had to write this. I'm not sure if it should become more than a one-shot, and for now, I won't label it. But, tell me what you think. Read and enjoy! Oh, and it's Fax, for you. Just a little bit of Dylan, but I'm a Fax fan, sorry folks. Oh, and the title's a tad cliche, but fitting.


This is it. Our paradise. We didn't save the world, but we've certainly lived up to our potential. We've evolved—the gills were obviously no coincidence—and we've survived. This was their vision; the School's plan all along, though pointless as it is. The others are still in the caves, and Dylan is looking for outlets. Fang's off checking the tree-house village, and I hope my decked-out honeymoon suite is still habitable.

Angel is still with me, watching the horizon. We sit quietly a few moments before she smiles to herself.

"After all this," I mumble, gesturing to the red streaked sky. "You actually have the audacity to _smile?"_ I ask with mock astonishment.

Angels nods, and stands. "I want to fly, Max," she says. "Alone." And before I can follow after her tiny, feathery down, she's out of sight, not so out of mind.

I continue to sit and stare at the vivid orange sun, and think of how threatening it had been just maybe minutes before. We have come so far, so far, just to see this, our paradise. Dr. Martinez must have been underestimating this jumble of islands earlier; what she thoughts to be a paradise, was now an actual safe haven for survivors. Everything essential all for natural use. This was our purpose. And in a sick, totally whitecoat kind of way, I guess I did save the world. Our world.

The sun sets, and I eventually take no notice of it altogether, having fallen asleep by the exhaustion. I'm being shaken hours later, waking to find Fang watching me, his hand placed gently on my shoulder. Behind him, the rest of our flock surrounds us, and behind them the survivors. Behind heavy lids I spot my mother and Ella beside Iggy, Ella clutching his arm and watching me intently.

"You found them," I say, aching to move from the rocky surface I had just slept on.

Fang smirks, then nods sarcastically. "Gills, you know."

I'm sitting up now, and Nudge is undergoing a sensory overload. "Oh, Max! Are you okay?" She leaps from her protective stance by Gazzy and comes to wrap her arms around me. "Broken bones? Broken _anything_? Why didn't you follow us?" She squeezes me tight and I gasp. "Why'd you have to risk it? Oh, Max, I'm so glad you're alive!"

Reluctant to put a damper on her ever-flowing joy, I pull backslightly. "I was sleeping, Nudge. Someone tune out the Nudge Channel, please!" I grin at her, pleased she's on her normal overload of chatter.

Dylan saunters forward and gently untangles her from me. She's laughing madly and doesn't realize the situation. I make a mental note to check her for insanity later.

Fang is staring at me all the while. I look to him and then to Dylan, who's backing away, Nudge in tow. He smiles at me, then mouths _We'll talk later. _Somehow, I know he'll be okay. He's accepting what was and still is, and I know that an official thank you should suffice. But later. Now, all I want to do is fly, soar at the most possible speed imaginable. I want to explore. I want to discover. I want, I want, I want.

I stand briskly, intent on fulfilling my inept wishes. Fang lurches after me, his wings spreading simultaneously with mine.

"Where to?"

I shrug, still unsure myself. "Does it matter anymore?" And I take off, breaking into a run first, then jumping from the cliff. The wind feels excellent against my wings, and I smile, relishing this feel, and remind myself that this is a feeling that won't be outlived. We will have forever to feel this.

Fang is not beneath me, but above me, and I feel his fingers run through my wind-blown hair. "It doesn't," he murmurs, and I strain to hear him over the loud wind currents.

I shake my head, and loop around to watch the other bird kids. Our flock, Angel, Gazzy, Nudge, Iggy, and Dylan are watching us, and when I motion for them to join, they don't hesitate to reminisce. They want to feel it, too. Feel the exhilarating rush that I imagine is our gift, as if surviving wasn't enough. And we soar together, as the flock of survivors we've always been.

LATER

Fang filled me in earlier that the villages were miraculously spared, and the other hundred or so enhanced kids could 'sleep it off'—Fang's words, not mine. Although we're all feeling joyous and _alive_—literally, no pun intended—I know they're tired. They just spent their supposed-to-be paradise day inside some caves, waiting for the end. Which, in all reality, is _not_ fun, let me tell you. So, I'll let them have the whole week if they want. We've got all the time in the world.

MUCH LATER

Fang and I are curled up in the hammock, watching the moon. I don't know about him, but I feel really, really melodramatic and cliché right now. I think Fang does, too, because he's fidgeting and not looking at me.

Finally, I get annoyed by our evasive mumblings and grin at him dopily. "What's got your tongue? Bite it again?"

He grins, but doesn't look at me. "This is prefect, Max."

And I know exactly what he means; I've said it time and time again, and I'll say precisely once more: what more could a few bird kids and their three human friends ask for? Nothing. That's right. Nada. Zilch. I mean, here I am, snuggled up with the person I nearly died with, and not one care in the world—you know, because all of those said cares have been obliterated, annihilated, abolished. Maybe I have myself to blame, and maybe I blame the whitecoats; this, _all_ of this, was for us, anyway. There never really was a plan for me to save the world—in their mind's eye. Of course _I_ had a plan. I'm Maximum Ride, baby. I'm a leader, right? Not to be too full of myself, but… we're living a life not so suitable for normalcy, and that was their plan all along.

Fang sighs, bringing me out of my reverie. "You think so, too."

I nod against his chest. "It's selfish, maybe, but I do."

He narrows his eyes, then finally looks at me. His eyes are clouded with suspicion and accusation. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he begins, twirling a piece of my hair lazily. "But I think Dylan's looking for you."

I gape at him, and lurch away. "How could you kn—"

"And you're planning on talking to him," he interrupts, stroking my jawline with electrifying calmness that sends shivers down my spine.

"Well, yeah," I mumble, nipping his lips before standing.

He doesn't like this, and I have to believe it's more of a personal problem, because he already knows it's _Fang _I've chosen. Can't he understand that Dylan needs this? That he deserves an apology, a thank you, _and, _just because I'm feeling just a tad more chirpy today, I'll throw in a hug. _If_, he willingly excepts _that_ much.

"I won't be long."

I slip out of the wooden door and into the night, going by assumptions more than instinct, and right now, I'm assuming he's right where I almost died. Right where we each took off into what I've come to think of as The New World. Cliché? Fitting? No? Yeah, thought so.

Anyway, I'm right. Dylan is sitting on the cliff with his long legs swaying over the side. I land a few feet behind him, and walk slowly to his shadowy form. "Hey," he says, taking my hand. I stare at our intertwined hands until he gets it. "Oh. Sorry, Max." And he releases me reluctantly.

I watch him cautiously until I'm sure he won't try anything else, then, I relax and gaze at the moon. It's an awkward silence for a while, then I clear my throat loudly to break the very thick sheet of ice he's created. "You, uh, been around much?" I ask, chuckling slightly.

Dylan shakes his head, grinning at my stupid choice of ice-breakers. "You don't have to do that, Max. It's me, you know, Dylan? From the flock?"

We both laugh at something that's way too important to be funny, and it seems he's already demolished any ice there ever was. Unconsciously, his hand finds mine again, and I let it stay, knowing this might be what he needs.

"…Dylan."

He looks at me inquiringly. "Yeah, Max?"

"Thank you," I say, hiding behind a curtain of hair. I feel the blush form on my grimy cheeks, and I definitely don't want him to see it's because of our situation.

"For what, Max?" Where're the sky-splittting meteors when you need them? Dylan's having fun with this, and he wants to pull it out of me inch by inch. But he needs to hear it all the same, so I suck it up, pull my big girl panties on, and say it out loud for what seems to be the first time in a long while.

"Thank you for loving me, Dylan," I whisper, still hiding my heated blush.

He doesn't laugh like I imagined him doing, but then that's not the Dylan I know. He simply nods and gestures for me to 'go on'. In my mind, I'm bristling and just _itching _to push him off the side—he could easily save himself with no trouble at all anyway.

I sigh a long, and heavy sigh. "You knew I loved Fang, and you spared him."

"Yes." His answer is short and curt, one I was expecting all too much.

"And you knew we'd need you." It almost hurts to be saying these things, and I imagine feeling the vomit following them shortly after he's out of earshot.

"Of course," he says, a little too much pride in his voice. My hand twitches in his, and I fight to control the slap I feel building on.

"And you rescued both me _and_ Fang." Now, I was really considering hurdling myself off the side. Anything but this self-induced torture of confrontation of fears and gratitude.

"Aw, you knew I wouldn't actually let you _die_." That last word really hit the nerve, and I flinched.

"Right, well," I cleared my throat again, noticing the knot that had swelled there while he spoke. "Anyway," I say, thinking of good things like flowers, butterflies, and, and bugs. Oh no. I feel it; the physical churning in my gut. Here it is, folks! The ever-drawn out: "I'm sorry, Dylan!"

There. I said it. I breathe deeply, waiting for his reaction.

"Max," he breathes, brushing my hair back to look at my face. The blush has deepened—is that even possible?—and I refuse to meet his gaze.

"I said it, Dylan, please don't make me say it again," I plead, taking in my face in both hands. "It tasted like vinegar and I _will not_ say it again."

"Vinegar?" he chuckles, removing my hands. "Okay, apology accepted."

I balk. He's just going to wave it away? After all of that build up? Oh, no. He's going to beg for that hug now. A little teasing never hurt anyone.

"It's okay to cry, Dyl, I know how bad it can hurt," I say, balling my fists over my usually hard heart. Then I grin. "Aw, Dyl, it's your first teenage heartbreak! This is monumental. How are you taking it?"

His smile vanishes, and he looks away, uncomfortable. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I nod, my grin stretching and the blush fading. I'll have to remember the best way to deflect embarrassement is to throw it to someone else. "Oh, but denial is very important in this factor, and not to be taken lightly. I'll give you a few days to mull over the new surroundings, okay?" Holding a giggle, I stand and begin to walk away, preparing to take flight when he follows, as expected.

"Please, Max." With the first stroke of my wings, I realize this is more serious to him than some petty tease. I'm hurting him, and he _really_ deserves that hug.

I drop back onto the cliff, intent on fulfilling my purpose here. "Come here, Dylan," I sigh, defeated, and spread my arms. He's not stupid, or slow, and he darn sure knows this may be his only chance to do this. Ever. No more from this gal, she's taken after this. For sure. Without a doubt.

Dylan scrambles forward and incases me, with both arms and wings. At first, I'm surprised and start to squirm, but realize this is for him, and what I'm doing is a good thing. "Thanks, Max," he whispers in my hair. "For everything."

Against his very tempting and very comfortable chest, I mumble a few 'you're welcomes'. Eventually, after standing together for what seems like minutes, he releases me, few traces of the perfect smile he knows that I melt over. Well, not today. I give a small salute and turn on my heel, immensely glad and relieved to have this whole ordeal off of my tiny bird kid chest.

"Night, Max!" he calls behind me. Without turning, I wave at him, and break into yet another run.

"Yeah, yeah, night, Dyl!" I grumble, spreading my wings for the much deserved flight back to Fang. That was probably the hardest conversation I've ever participated in. And it _will_ not happen again.

Fang is waiting on the tree house deck, waiting with a not-so-loving look on his face.

I land in front of him, fold my wings, and glide past without even a glance. He follows stealthily, waiting to grill me on the whole Dylan thing. Though I can't see where jealousy still fits in here.

"You went to see him," Fang murmurs, catching my hand and gently stopping me just short of the cot provided for me.

I shrug, and wrench free to slip under the covers.

"It went well," he presses, not caring if the distrust seeps from his mouth.

I'm fuming, inside and out. If this were a movie, there'd be smoke billowing from my ears and nose. Gritting my teeth, I answer him as truthfully as I can. "It did, it did," I say, nodding to myself, counting to ten in my head. "For him, and he's lucky he didn't have to fly back with vomit drenching his clothes."

Fang chuckles, realizing how hard it was for me to apologize. He knows me so well. "Let me guess; you'd rather have gargled nails."

"Ding. Ding. Ding. We have a winner, give the boy a prize," I say, pulling the quilts over me. The tree houses is made of a single room of only very wide space, no indoor plumbing. Maybe they only thought of the essentials- strictly essentials. "Feel free to leave," I grumble, throwing my jeans aside. Finally comfortable enough to sleep, I sink into the down pillow and wait for the sleep to take over. Instead, I find I'm not alone in the bed. In fact, Fang takes up nearly all of it.

"Get out before I throw you out."

He smirks, but doesn't budge an inch. "You seemed fine with Dylan sleeping in your room before."

I roll my eyes. "_He_ was scared at night. _You _have made it very clear that you can take care of yourself, oh, mighty, immortal Fang."

His smirk fades to a smile, and he's pulling me closer to him. "Maybe, but we're living now, Max. We're _alive_."

I can't move, can't think. I feel so hot, like the room is enveloped in flames that lick my heels and burn through my chest. Fang gently kisses my jawline and continues up until he's pecking my ear.

I can see the moon above us through the glass and trees of the ceiling, and I'm grateful Mom thought of absolutely everything worth surviving for.

* * *

And here it is, my first Max Ride fanfic. I hope it wasn't OOC, I really tried to make the chracters, well, the characters. So, tell me what you think! Showuld there be more? Should I give up on this particular fanfic? I need feedback, people. How am I to satisfy the common fanfic readers if I have no idea what they wish to read? Anywho, thanks for reading!


End file.
